The Song of Time: Crack the Sky
by FallenNephilim
Summary: -SuperWhoAvengeLock- continuation of "The Song of Time". The Doctor is in his Eleventh regeneration, Sherlock and John have heard nothing of their friends for the past year, the Winchester boys are having trouble in America, and an odd surprise waits for them all in New York City.
1. It Began With a Reunion

**[A:N] Yes, so this was rather sudden. But I decided to do a continuation of my previous SuperWhoLock story _The Song of Time _with a new twist. It's a WIP, for sure, so I'll have to see where I go with this. But I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

It was quiet. A bit quieter than the Doctor was used to.

At the moment he was orbiting the Earth, trying to decide what to do. The entirety of space and time was laid out before him, and yet suddenly he felt lonely. With a brief sigh he glanced down at the floor beneath his feet, staring at nothing in particular. He so badly wanted to visit his friends; Sherlock and John and the Winchester boys and in particular get another good look at that angel, Castiel. But how would they react, seeing him like this?

He'd been in his tenth regeneration last time he'd seen them. But now he was different. Different hair, different eyes, different teeth, different clothes, different TARDIS he even had a different sonic screwdriver. And the thought of them turning him away, of thinking he was lying about his identit it made him feel sick.

But it had been a year already. And he'd promised that he'd visit.

"Geronimo," he murmured softly as he punched in the correct coordinates and began maneuvering down to the planet below, hoping that the word would somehow give him strength for what he was about to do.

There was nothing the Doctor was more afraid of than losing his friends.

* * *

X X X

* * *

_London, England_

Some part of John always knew that the Doctor would come back always _hoped _he would, at the very least. Sherlock, however, had shrugged it off after weeks passed with still no sign of the Doctor, saying that he'd probably end up waiting twenty-seven years to return again, just like last time. But John knew better.

So when he and Sherlock returned to the flat after the conclusion of a particularly gruesome case to see a blue police box in their living room, he wasn't surprised at all.

Wel maybe just a little bit.

Sherlock stared, eyes wide as if he couldn't believe it. "He came back . . ."

Following Sherlock's example, John paused for a moment, admittedly a bit shocked. Of course he knew the Doctor would return eventually, but he never thought that he'd just park the TARDIS right in the middle of their bloody living room. Still, he got over the initial shock quicker than Sherlock did, a grin lighting up his face as the door on the front of the box opened.

But the man who stepped out was not the Doctor.

He was a bit taller than the Doctor, and his clothes were a bit weird too, what with the long green coat and odd boots he wore coupled with a bright red bow tie. That added to the dark hair he sported that was brushed over to one side, complimenting his large jaw, shapely cheek bones, and a mouth that had a strangely eccentric curve to it made him rather handsome. But that was not really what John should've been focusing on at the moment.

"Who are you?" Sherlock demanded, his eyes narrowed. "And where is the Doctor?"

The man shifted on his feet, obviously uncomfortable, and offered them a sheepish smile. "I am the Doctor."

A disbelieving silence stretched on for a few moments before John scoffed.

"You look nothing like the Doctor," he said.

The man flinched, looking strangely hurt. "I know. I should've explained that to you before, I suppose. But in my defense, I'm a bit rubbish at remembering things. So yeah, not my fault. But I promised I'd come back and I did, didn't I? Took me a year, but still I came back."

Sherlock stepped a bit closer to him. "How strange . . ." he murmured. "You look and sound nothing like the Doctor, and yet"

I know things only he would know?" The man finished. "Like I said, should've explained this before. See, Time Lords have this thing we do it's sort of a way to cheat death. We call it regeneration. Right before we die we change; our teeth, hair, personality, likes, dislikes, eyes, height, weight, all of it changes. Last time you saw me I was in my tenth regeneration tall, very skinny, wore long coats and pinstripe suits and converse all the time, loved to say _allons-y_ a lot, yes?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Well, this is my eleventh regeneration." He said theatrically, taking a little bow as he did.

John and Sherlock stared at him a moment, neither sure what to say, until John sighed and shook his head. "_Aliens_," he muttered.

"Also, how could I have the TARDIS if I wasn't the Doctor?" He looked desperate.

"Alright, alright." Sherlock cut him off, "I he glanced at John, _We_ believe you, Doctor."

Relief wiped the desperation from the Doctor's face, and his subsequent grin could've rivaled the sun. "Oh, good. I was beginning to get a bit worried there admittedly. See, I don't know what I would've done if you hadn' well, enough about that. It's great to see you all again! I've missed you so."

"Where have you been?" John wondered. "I mean, we said you could come and visit any time, didn't we?"

"Yes, wel ran into a bit of trouble."

"Ah," Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming that's an understatement."

The Doctor just smiled.

"So, are you just here to visit, then?" John asked, motioning for him to take a seat.

"Ah, yes. I had a spot of free time. Also, I was wondering if perhaps we could visit the Winchester boys?"

"We haven't heard anything from them since you last left." Sherlock said. "There have been reports of strange happenings in America, though. We just haven't had time to look into it."

"It's been case after case for us recently." John added.

"I see." The Doctor frowned. "Well, shall we go check in on them, then?"

John blinked. "Right now?"

"Yes! Of course right now! What other time would you like to go? Five years from now?"

Sherlock smirked. "This regeneration seems to be a tad feistier than the last."

"Ah, yes, well . . ." The Doctor cleared his throat. "Are you two coming, or not?"

It wasn't really a hard decision.


	2. Fancy Meeting You Here

"– _And the vicious lightning storms plaguing New York are still, as of yet, unexplained. What we want to know is how are these storms being created when there's not a cloud in the sky? And should we be worried? But so far, the experts down at the National Weather Service have nothing for us yet."_

Sam frowned at the TV. He'd known that he wouldn't get anything good from the News, they apparently knew nothing. But he'd had to try.

In the end, though, it had told him nothing.

However, Sam wasn't about to give up. He knew that something wasn't right. These storms were practically impossible, what with the lack of clouds in the sky when they happened, and yet they happened anyway. Therefore it was definitely somehow related to the supernatural. It'd just be nice if they had clues. Was it the angels? Demons? Some other creature, perhaps? He had no idea. And while Bobby and Dean were shrugging it off as nothing, Sam knew better.

Something wasn't right.

Sighing heavily, he switched the TV off and slunk to the kitchen to grab another beer. Dean and Bobby had run off looking for info on a possible job, but Sam wasn't optimistic about it. It was a just a prank and he knew it, but since when did Bobby and Dean ever listen to him? He shook his head and returned to the living room, only to freeze as he spotted the familiar blue police box sitting smack in the middle of it.

And of course, that was right when Bobby and Dean returned.

"Hey, Sammy, it seems you – holy _shit!_" His brother exclaimed, bringing up his gun in surprise at the large blue box in the middle of their living room. But as recognition hit him he relaxed, lowering his gun, and stared. "Is – is that what I think it is?"

"I think so," Sam replied, taking a few steps toward it.

"What is going on?" Bobby asked roughly. "And what is that thing in the middle of my house?"

"It belongs to a friend of ours." Dean explained, "Remember the guy we told you about from that job in London? The Doctor?"

"Oh, yeah, him." Bobby sighed. "_Aliens_. Never woulda believed it."

"Doctor?" Sam called out, inching closer to the TARDIS. "Doctor, is that you?"

Suddenly the door swung open, and out popped Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and . . . some unfamiliar man in a knee-length green coat and red bowtie.

"Well!" The man with the bowtie exclaimed, grinning widely. "Fancy meeting you here!"

A few silent moments passed before Dean stepped forward, shotgun at the ready, and frowned at them. "Who are you?" He demanded of the bowtie-man, "And where is the Doctor?"

"This is the Doctor," Sherlock said a matter-of-factly.

". . . What?"

Sherlock sighed heavily, "It's a primary function of the Time Lords, it seems. When they are about to die they regenerate instead, thus cheating death. The only problem is that when they _do_ regenerate then everything else about them, save for their memories, changes. So that's why he looks different."

"I'm still me, though." The Doctor offered helpfully.

"Dean," Sam put a hand on the barrel of his gun, lowering it. "Come on."

Dean sighed and glared at the Doctor. "That's not normal, you know. What kind of person changes when they're about to die so they can live?"

"Whoever said I was normal?" The Doctor grinned.

"Does your personality change too?" Sam wondered.

"Yes."

"The only thing he seems to retain besides his memories is his knack for getting into trouble." John piped in.

"That sounds complicated." Dean made a face, "Okay. Can we change the subject now? The last thing I want to talk about is alien bodily functions."

"Why don't we talk about the lightning, then?"

Dean glared at his brother.

"Lightning?" Sherlock's eyes brightened, his interest piqued. "What do you mean?"

"In New York, mainly," Sam explained, "There have been these strange lightning storms. No rain, just lightning and thunder."

"What's so odd about that? There are often lightning storms like that in the summer." John scoffed.

"Yes, of course. But do they often happen when there aren't any clouds?"

". . . Uh."

"Exactly," Sam said. "Suddenly, and without cause, there will be a lightning storm in New York while the sky is devoid clouds. They will happen two, maybe even three, times a day, and they only last a few seconds. No one can explain them, and even though Bobby and Dean keep waving it off as nothing –" he gave the two a pointed look, "– I know that something isn't right here. Something is going on."

The Doctor smiled. "Well, I think that deserves an investigation, at the very least, don't you?" He glanced at Dean. "Why would you ever think that something like that was unimportant? Lightning with no clouds? How exciting!"

Bobby sighed. "So are we going to New York City, then?"

"Seems like," Dean replied.

"Interesting." Sherlock murmured.

John rolled his eyes.

"Hold on, where is Castiel?" The Doctor asked. "He should come with us! We could use his help on this."

"I haven't seen him in a few days." Dean said.

"That's somewhat troublesome." Sherlock observed.

"Well, give me a moment and I'll call him." Dean closed his eyes, looking awkward, and waved his hands about a bit. John raised an eyebrow. The Doctor smothered a grin. "Oh Castiel," Dean began, "I pray you get your holy ass down here right now because we've got some serious shit going down."

"Smooth." John commented dryly.

"Is he coming?" The Doctor wondered.

Sam shrugged. "Unless he's right in the middle of something, he usually comes right away."

The soft sound of wings suddenly made them all quiet down, and then Castiel was there, his trench coat fluttering around his ankles as he glanced purposefully at Dean and then glanced at the rest of them. "Hello."

"Oh, Cas! Good to see you again!" The Doctor crowed. "How are you?"

"I am well, Doctor." Castiel smiled at him, "And you?"

"Oh, good, good."

Dean gestured helplessly at the Doctor. "Cas, you're not, uh, _surprised_ to see him like this?"

"I know of the functions of Time Lords."

"Oh, gee, thanks. Would it have killed ya to tell _us_ that?"

Castiel shrugged. "It didn't seem important at the time."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Sherlock interrupted, "Enough dawdling, we should get going."

"Quite right!" The Doctor said gleefully, "Everyone; into the TARDIS."

"Oh, hell no." Bobby said immediately. "If you expect me to get into some freaky alien time machine, you got your head on backwards, boy."

"Boy?" The Doctor echoed. In all of his travels, no one had ever called him that. He was a nine-hundred-plus year old alien from a different planet. Hell, a different galaxy! And yet this man who was barely in his fifties was calling him boy? How odd.

"I ain't goin' nowhere in that alien contraption, I'd much rather stay here."

"Bobby," Sam implored. "Come on, we could really use your help on this job."

"Then call me!" Bobby shook his head and sat down at his desk stubbornly. "Nothin' you idjits say will get me to change my mind. I'm stayin' here."

"Well, he's adamant." Dean said. "Seriously, we couldn't move him even if we had a forklift."

"I see." The Doctor gave Bobby a flourishing bow. "It was nice meeting you, then, Bobby."

After the rest gave him their farewells, they piled into the TARDIS. The Winchesters looked around in awe at how it had changed. It didn't even look like the same TARDIS! It was so much more modern-looking than the old one, and sleeker, too!

"Was that old TARDIS a vintage, or something?" Sam asked.

"Sort of," The Doctor grinned. "I'd had that one since my ninth regeneration."

"Just make sure to set the time right on this go, Doctor." Sherlock called from the other side of the control panel. "We wouldn't want to land a few hundred years in the future, now would we?"

"Uh, do you do that often?" Dean wondered nervously. "Go off course like that, I mean?"

"Oh, occasionally." The Doctor smiled, "But it's really only if I have other matters that the TARDIS deems more pressing."

"Ah."

The Doctor's smile turned mischievous as he spun a few dials on the control panel and flipped a lever up. The large hourglass-like contraption in the middle of the panel began to move, and the familiar _whooshing_ of the TARDIS filled their ears as the floor shook beneath them.

"Geronimo!" The Doctor exclaimed, and then they were off.

But if they'd had any idea what awaited them there, they would've been a bit more careful.


	3. First Come, First Serve

The Doctor hadn't visited New York City in some time. He wasn't sure why, but he'd never really had a good view of it after the whole ordeal a few years before with some secret organization whose name he'd forgotten. In the end it had all been sorted out. But the memory still soiled his view of the city.

"So, where do we begin?" Dean wondered, stretching as they all exited the TARDIS.

"With investigation, of course." The Doctor replied. "We need to see if anyone has any knowledge of these freak lightning storms."

"We should split up, I think." John suggested. "We'll cover more ground that way."

"Castiel is with me!" The Doctor exclaimed quickly, much to Dean's dismay, as he clapped a hand down on the angel's shoulder.

Sam smiled. "Alright then, Dean will come with me, and John and Sherlock will go together. We meet back here in three hours."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and so they parted ways. But as they did the Doctor had to wonder if splitting up was such a good idea. He had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost as if someone was watching him. But the last thing he needed right then was for his thoughts to distract him while he was walking beside someone as amazingly interesting as an angel of the Lord. So he shrugged the misgivings off and turned to ask the Castiel a question, only to see the angel's violent blue eyes locked on him already.

"You feel it too."

The Doctor blinked. "Sorry?"

"Someone is watching us."

Narrowing his eyes, the Doctor nodded. Castiel was sharper than he thought. Suddenly, surprising him, Castiel spun around, planting himself in front of the Doctor and pulling an odd-looking silver dagger-like-thingy out from beneath his coat. For about half-a-second, the Doctor had no idea what was happening, and then he saw a man standing a few feet away from Castiel. A man who, just moments before, had not been there

The newcomer was relatively tall, beating Castiel by a few inches, with mussed, light-brown hair and steely gray eyes. An odd abundance of stubble on his chin and a careless rumple in his clothes spoke of endless running – but from who or what, the Doctor could only guess.

"Balthazar," Castiel said, "What do you want?"

Balthazar smiled, putting up his hands in a sign of peace. "You saved my life before, brother. I've come to return the favor."

"Brother?" The Doctor's eyes widened. "Are you an angel too?"

Balthazar glanced at him and nodded. "Oh, but please don't lump me in with those prudes who follow Raphael. I dug the stick out of my ass eons ago."

The Doctor grinned.

"Balthazar is a rouge angel," Castiel explained, frowning as he slid his weapon back into his coat with a flourish.

"I see."

Castiel fixed his eyes on his brother, "So, what did you want to warn me about?"

"There are odd things happening here, as I'm sure you've noticed." Balthazar's gray eyes flickered. "I don't know, Cas. All I know is that I should stay away, and so should you."

"Who – or what – is making the lightning storms?" The Doctor queried. "Do you know?"

Balthazar shook his head. "All I know is that neither angels nor demons have any part in it."

Castiel's brown furrowed. "Then why –?"

"Tell me you can't feel it, Cas." Balthazar interrupted. "Tell me you can feel that innate uneasiness – that unexplainable anxiety that hasn't left even me since I entered the city. Tell me you can't, and I'll leave you alone."

Castiel's eyes lost their wary glimmer and he nodded. "I feel it."

"So do I." The Doctor piped up. "Like someone is watching us."

"Yes," Balthazar seemed to barely suppress a shudder. "I don't like it, Cas. So once I learned that you were here, I came to warn you. Something just isn't right."

"That's sort of the whole reason we came here, though." Cas offered him an apologetic smile. "Thank you, Balthazar. But I cannot leave."

"Suit yourself." Balthazar shrugged, and he was gone in an instant.

"Well, that was interesting," The Doctor commented.

Castiel frowned. "Very little frightens my brother. Balthazar is conceited and overly self-confident, at best. So to think that he is also bothered by this 'unexplainable anxiety' as he put it, is . . . worrying, to say the least."

"So, what do you want to do now?"

Castiel gave him a deadpan look. "Keep investigating."

The Doctor grinned in response. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

* * *

X X X

* * *

"Tony Stark?"

Sam nodded. "A lot of the people I questioned mentioned either him or his tower."

"Same here," Dean glanced down at the pad he'd scribbled a few notes in. "I've got at least three mentions of him out of the five people I talked to."

"You _do_ know who he is, though, right?"

Dean paused. "What?"

"Don't you ever watch the news?" Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's blank look. "Tony Stark? He's Iron Man!"

"Iron _what?_"

"Iron Man! He's a genius, he created this super suit, and he's basically a superhero."

Dean scoffed. "You are such a nerd."

"Come on, Dean. Everyone knows who Iron Man is."

"Not me." Dean frowned, "Are you sure you're not mixing up reality with a TV show, or something? It wouldn't be the first time."

Sam gave him a bitchface like no other. "Look, just trust me on this, okay? I have this feeling that the lightning has something to do with him and his iron suit. Also, there have been reports of other people in the city lately – people with superpowers."

"It's your nerd dreams come true, Sam!"

Sam punched him on the arm. "Seriously, Dean."

"Alright, alright. Fine. I'll trust you." Dean shook his head. _Superheroes. Ha. Leave it to my nerd brother._

* * *

X X X

* * *

"Sherlock!"

The view from the top of the five-story building gave him a better view than from the ground, and in the distance Sherlock could see it. The sky was flashing with lightning; bolt after bolt, and yet there wasn't a cloud in sight.

_Amazing._

John caught up to him just then, climbing over the last rung of the ladder that led up to the roof and moving to stand beside his friend.

"Look there, John." Sherlock pointed. "Sam was right."

John's eyes widened. "No way."

Sherlock continued to stare, entranced. He'd seen many things in his life, but nothing ever as intricate or beautiful as this.

"Do you think that this was caused by more aliens?" John gasped, instantly thinking of the Doctor.

Sherlock could not reply as something suddenly caught his eye, off in the distance, where the lighting was originating. If he looked hard enough he could almost imagine that he saw a man there in the sky, wielding a hammer that seemed to be the source of the lightning. But when he blinked, the man was gone.

_. . . What?_

"Sherlock?" John frowned at his friend. "You okay?"

"No." Sherlock murmured, "I just saw something impossible."

"Even more impossible than a lighting storm with no storm clouds?"

Sherlock glanced at John, his eyes wide with excitement. "Yes."


End file.
